Dustil's Mission
by CortessaBlatt
Summary: A little fanfiction poking fun at DustilMission supporters. I have too much free time.


**Dustil's Mission**

_A little fanfiction poking fun at Dustil/Mission supporters. I have too much free time._

**Rated PG13**

**Disclaimer: **I deserve to be flogged for this one.

**Dustil's Mission**

The Ebon Hawk was blessedly deserted that evening. Bastila, Juhani, and Jolee were wandering about in the Jedi Enclave; Carth and Revan were off canoodling somewhere; Canderous was mooning about the cantina, and the droids were offline. Dustil came back from a day of training in the Enclave, and found Mission playing with T3's holovid player.

"Leave the poor tin can alone, will ya?" he moaned, nudging her aside with his foot. "He's not a vid player, he's a droid."

She glared at him, her little blue face twisting up into something that could be considered resentfulness. She folded her arms. "I wasn't gonna hurt him none," she argued. "You ain't the boss of me. Just 'cause you're Carth's son doesn't mean I have to listen to you, and you ain't much older than me, either."

"I have more authority, anyway," Dustil said. "Move aside. Let me see what you did to the poor fellow."

She shoved him right back. "Who says you have more authority? Why?"

"My dad, for starters," Dustil muttered, not even listening to her as he slipped a wrench between his teeth and peered into T3's open head drive.

"Carth didn't say nothing about you taking care of me!" she cried. "I can take care of myself!"

"Sure," he replied, smirking and poking a wire. A tiny spark of electricity shot up his arm.

"This ain't fair. You better give me a better reason, 'cause I ain't listening to you."

Dustil snickered. "I'm smarter than you, how's that?" He clipped a wire back into place. T3-M4 gave an automatic beep as he was reconnected.

Mission yelped and hollered for a good ten minutes before she decided she'd had enough and stood on the other side of the room. Zaalbar gazed at her absently; he had been motionless and silent the entire time, sitting in the corner. Dustil was amazed that he hadn't noticed the Wookiee – the guy took up an entire couch.

"_Mission, don't fight with the boy, he doesn't deserve it_," Zaalbar chided gently. Of course, Dustil couldn't understand him. He had been learning major languages in the Sith Academy, but never… Wookiee-talk.

"He didn't have to be all mean about it," Mission sniffed, shooting Dustil a glare.

Dustil bristled. "I wasn't mean about it!" he shouted. "You're the one who's being a little brat!"

"YOU CAN STUFF IT, ONASI!" she barked.

Zaalbar bowed his head, sighing. The fur on his chin rustled.

Dustil glared. "YOU CALL ME BY MY NAME, SISTER! I DESERVE THAT!"

"MAKE ME!"

"VAO!"

Her voice grew dangerously soft. "What did you say?" she hissed.

"Vao," he growled back.

"_Onasi_."

"_Vao_."

She shoved him. With uncustomary boorishness, he shoved her back. She stumbled a few steps and jumped right back up.

"Bantha," she said.

"Wench," he snarled back.

"_Blockhead_."

"_Harlot_."

"Gamorrean pig-man!"

"Toothless Iridorian!"

"_Drooling rakghoul_!"

"_Infertile gizka_!"

"SWOOP WRECK!"

"CANTINA RAT!"

"_TARGET PRACTICE_!"

"_NERF-HERDER_!"

"**_DRUNKEN SITH DRONE_**!"

He sputtered and rose his voice as loud as it could go. "**_DISEASE-RIDDEN SLUT_**!"

"**_YOU NO-GOOD _**–"

Zaalbar chose to intervene then. "_You two need to knock it off right now! Stop fighting! I said stop_!"

Dustil glared at Zaalbar, and then looked back to Mission. "What'd your useless fur ball friend say?"

Mission's mouth twisted into a nasty smile. "He said you stink like Bantha poodoo and he wants to gut you like a fish and feed you your own organs."

Silence stretched out for a long, long time. Dustil stared, and the color drained from his face. Mission's headtails flushed with agitation and pleasure. Zaalbar bleated, "_I did _not!"

"What's all the noise in here?"

Everyone turned and saw Carth striding up the entry ramp, studying them all with concern. "You two weren't fighting again, were you?"

Mollified by the sight of his father, Dustil shook his head. "No," he mumbled.

Mission shrugged and resumed her work on T3-M4. They lapsed into silence as Carth strode past and headed to the bunk room. When she was sure he was gone, Mission said, "You botched the wiring job, Pig-man."

Casually, making look like it was a complete accident, Dustil strode past her and smacked her in the head. "See you in the morning, Vao."

As he vanished down the corridor, she spat after him, and began hooking T3 to the mainframe.

------

**Author's Notes: **I. Was. Bored.


End file.
